


The Third Dragon

by Daughter_of_the_Mountains



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-23
Updated: 2014-10-23
Packaged: 2018-02-22 07:28:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2499590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daughter_of_the_Mountains/pseuds/Daughter_of_the_Mountains
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There had to be a third Targaryen. Rhaegar had to create the third Targaryen. There had always been three dragons, yet with his sweet wife Elia unable to bear any more children, the Silver Prince knew that he could not be given a third child from her. Then he met a young beauty who had soft, chestnut-brown hair and sparkling, deep-grey eyes who went by the name of Lyanna.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Third Dragon

They should be here soon. Rhaegar lifted his goblet, pressing his lips to the crimson liquid inside the vessel, but his thoughts were not with the drink, but with his soon-to-be visitor. Placing the golden cup on the table, he studied the rubies that glimmered in the firelight, shooting sparks of red into his sight. So beautiful. So perfect. As were Elia and Lady Stark.

He'd known from the first glance that she was special. Her large grey eyes, like smoke had locked with his indigo ones and she'd begun playing with a lock of deep brown hair, looking down at her lap which had been covered in the long skirts of a pale blue, silken dress. She was a wolf and he was a dragon and they would make a strong, beautiful child, as beautiful as them and as strong as a dragon's bones. Perhaps the child would have Lady Lyanna's storm-grey eyes and Rhaegar's silver hair. Or he might have Rhaegar's eyes of a deep purple-blue and Lyanna's gorgeous brown tresses. The child would grow up to be beautiful, that was certain. And Rhaegar would make sure that he knew how to fight, that he knew of his lineage as a son of the Last Dragon.

A knock at the door tore his eyes from the red wine that was pooled inside the dark gold cup. Casting his eyes to the door, he felt a jolt of hope that it might be Lyanna already.

"Come in."

The door silently opened and several of his guards entered, in their midst a slender woman, her dark hair escaping the confines of a braid that was slung over her shoulder. Rheagar smiled.

"Hello, milady."

Lyanna said nothing, her eyes dark. Her soft hands were curled into tight fists and her pink lips refused to spill any words.

"Prince Rheagar spoke, wench! Answer!"

"Don't speak to her like that." Rhaegar ordered, vacating his seat and gliding over the pale marbled floor to meet her. "This woman, have you any idea how special she is? She will be the bearer of my last child."

Lyanna's eyes were wide. Startled. 

"Yes," Rhaegar murmured, carefully tucking some of her escaped strands of hair behind her ears. "Mother of my youngest son. Are you pleased to have such an honour?"

Lyanna stared at him. Her rosebud lips opened several times and he watched her, eagerly anticipating her first words. But then those lips pressed themselves together and the prince deflated.

"I suppose you've had a long and tiring journey," he said, more to himself than the silent young woman. "Come, I'll take you to your chambers, milady."

She refused to take his proffered arm, staring at him in stony silence. Rhaegar nodded to himself and placed his hands on her shoulders before steering her out of the room and through darkened corridors.


End file.
